


ANYWHERE YOU WANT ME ★

by noctambule



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Art, Interspecies Romance, M/M, MerMay 2019, Non-Graphic Smut, Romantic Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 23:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19073104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctambule/pseuds/noctambule
Summary: A ficlet based on this beautifulpiece of art, by a_no_ba @ twitter.« A year goes by, and Shiro’s dreams are painted purple. It’s the first color he chooses to learn, studying all its shades and all its hues.The Amethyst, he names his ship, like the complex tinge of the merman’s eyes, its glow between a rich lavender and a ripe mulberry. Shiro’s lived at the core of its chromatic spectrum ever since hesawfor the first time, and the space between the beats of his heart now belongs to the ocean. »





	ANYWHERE YOU WANT ME ★

**Author's Note:**

> LATE FOR MERMAY AS USUAL. please pay @[a_no_ba](https://twitter.com/A_no_ba) a visit, who allowed me to drabble on her gorgeous piece. big thanks to riley and tiff who seem to always go through hell and back whenever i write a thing.
> 
> i've been listening to this [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJsF7sHpaPs) _nonstop_ ever since i started writing this fic (mercury, by sleeping at last). i wonder if it shows. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS SELF-INDULGENT FICLET, and i hope it's worthy of the piece of art it was inspired by. let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!

— K —

  
  
  
  
  


_Sound_ . Barely six years old, and Keith struggled to understand when his father tried to explain what it was, when he gazed at his mother with eyes that shone brighter than bioluminescent plankton, and no matter where or how, she always smiled the same way. _She’s my soulmate_ , he signed, _and her voice is shaped like my heart_ . It made little sense back then. Back when they _lived_ , together yet apart, his mother a human. He often tried to _listen_ , just in case, tiny fingers curled over his heart, but no sound ever came. His father’s kin mostly ignored him. His mother’s relentlessly hunted him down, and fifteen years down the stream, he’s fairly convinced there won’t ever be anyone for him. It’s fine. He’s used to roaming the waters alone, though he’s always longed for more and he could never quite figure out what it was.

 

Until he _does_.

 

Twenty-one years old, and a tapestry of scars slashes his flesh, survival etched onto his skin. The world isn’t kind, neither up _nor_ down, and upon the eve of his birthday, Keith nearly succumbs on land, clawing and hissing and cleaving the air with his tail, folded around a seal pup. An old man towers over them, bloated and grey, a blunt tool in his hand; Keith’s body is a mismatch of cuts and bruises, covered in a film of sweat and sand caked in blood-streaked lines. He’s always liked to _observe_ humans, his mother’s realm. Sometimes out of spite, other times out of curiosity. He emerged today out of _anger_ , seashore tainted crimson, and he’ll _die_ before another pup loses its life here, where two worlds collide. The same resolve seems to color the man’s vile rictus, but Keith hasn’t lived this long out of sheer luck. He knows how to _fight_ , and his tail manages to hit where it hurts, at least for a time.

 

More men have approached, and the sun shines too bright. His scales are too _dry_ , his breathing unsteady. It’s easier underwater, where he doesn’t need sound to defend himself—where everything obeys the same laws. He’s at a disadvantage here, and the pup yelps, as if to try and threaten them away. He doesn’t _hear_ , but he feels its body, a creature of dual instincts, just like him. The old man still lies flat on his arse, presenting him with an opportunity to _flee_ before the others get too close. He _tries,_ slithers down the beach but stops short a moment later, a strident cry he doesn’t hear scorching his throat on its way out.

 

There’s a knife planted in his caudal fin, rooting him there as he snarls and shoots a fiery glare over his shoulder. The pup finds its way to the water, and Keith braces himself for a fight he isn’t sure he can win. His fear doesn’t transpire. He’s all fangs and claws, and then he sees _him_ , another man, broad and tall and young, dashing forth with _intent_ . Keith’s nails dig into the sand, but he’s not coming for him. He’s coming for _them_ , punching the aggressors’ lights out as he swiftly moves, a paddle in his hand. It’s the most ridiculous sight Keith’s ever seen, but it _works_ , and he might have laughed had the stranger not directly looked into his eyes. Had he not fixed on him the kindest gaze anyone’s ever spared him, cautiously removing the knife from his tail. His lips move. He’s _talking_ to him, like his mother so often did, but Keith is out of practice and he can’t read anything he’s saying…

 

...but he can _hear_.

 

Time stills. His savior freezes mid-crouch, wide-eyed as Keith’s heart beats for the first time—or so it feels like. _She’s my soulmate, and her voice is shaped like my heart_ . He hears its deafening pulse, its foreign song in his ears, where he’s never heard _anything_ , and the echo of the stranger’s voice is like a balm around his skull. _He_ is. A heavy weight in his chest, spreading low and rising high, and it’s sweet and it’s warm and it’s ragged, and he can’t look anywhere else.

 

It’s how he misses the older man behind him, and the stranger who holds Keith’s heart in his eyes _collapses_ , kicked and punched and cut, and Keith doesn’t like the sounds he can hear now. Panic wells up in his throat; it’s a cacophony of noises that make his head _spin_ , and his lungs ice over, fear and fury churning in his guts.

 

He lurches forward. For _him_ . Despite his strength seeping from his body, and his skull _crowded_ , he reaches out for the man and grabs his arm with one hand, sweeping his tail to temporarily shield him as he knocks the other over. Then he drags him away. _Slowly_. Every breath is a laborious effort until the ocean welcomes him, swimming forth with a stranger in his arms.

 

He’s barely conscious. Keith makes a point to keep his head above the surface, and as soothing as the water is, he aches everywhere. His cuts sting the most, but he finds that every time he looks at the man who risked his life for him, his heart falters, and it’s a torment he’s not ready to forgo…

 

...even though he _has_ to. There’s no place for him here, and when he lays his body on the sand, the same island but farther away, people he suspects might be his friends gather close. He leaves, as stealthy as he can, and he watches from a safe distance, curled fingers over his heart.

 

He knows now, with clear certainty, what his father meant to say.

  
  


— S —

  
  
  
  


A year goes by, and Shiro’s dreams are painted purple. It’s the first color he chooses to learn, studying all its shades and all its hues. _The Amethyst_ , he names his ship, like the complex tinge of the merman’s eyes, its glow between a rich lavender and a ripe mulberry. Shiro’s lived at the core of its chromatic spectrum ever since he _saw_ for the first time, and the space between the beats of his heart now belongs to the ocean.

 

All his life he’s searched for something more. The seas were an early fascination; like his father and _his_ father before him, he sails its tempestuous moods, not for riches but for treasures of a different kind. It’s soothing. He’s never really felt home anywhere, but when his ship carves into the waves, sleek tosses of her fine bow to lead him wherever he wishes, the crisp air whipping his face feels like _freedom_ , an infinite slew of possibilities.

 

He’s one of them, the merman who cleared his vision. There’s so much of the world he hasn’t seen, so much he _wants_ to see, and it feels oddly bleak now, without him by his side... but it’s nothing more than an air castle he doesn’t know how to seize. In another life, maybe, he’ll aim for the stars, but _here_ , their constellations flicker across the expanse of the ocean below, and it’s where his attention has been riveted all along.

 

It’s when he fights for his life, _again_ , that he finally finds him, and he thinks, distantly, that they really should meet under better circumstances. _Trim the yards off the wind!_ It’s the last thing he yells before the storm swallows his crew whole, and the view is beyond ghastly as he floats amidst flecks of flotsam. Lightning cracks and splits the skies bright and violet, and he breathes in more water than he breathes in air. He’s unaware of the exact moment he _keels_ over, and when he opens his eyes again to clear skies, there’s warm sand to his back and a gentle pressure in the middle of his chest.

 

 _Amethyst_ . He blinks hazy, a coughing fit carrying away whatever he might have said. The merman is perched concerned above him, his palm over his heart. Shiro recognizes him instantly, awareness leeching into his mind, _between them_ , and the corner of his mouth weakly quirks up.

 

“You saved me,” he manages to wheeze, and the other presses his palm harder to his chest, _insistent_ , fingers drumming as long lashes flutter low.

 

What a sight for salty eyes.

 

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Shiro reads his eyes like a map of unknown territories charted by his own hand, and his arm rises on its own volition, the crook of his palm curled around a scarred cheek.

 

“Y-Your eyes really _are_ purple,” he croaks, and he _laughs_ , overwhelmed and exhilarated and _relieved_ , his life no longer grey, beginning anew.

 

~~~

 

 _Keith_ , he learns his name a few days later, and Shiro’s never been more grateful for his knowledge of sign language. He’s not fluent, but it’s enough, and they communicate through slow motions of hands and lips, which he’s fairly certain Keith can read. _Shhh_ . It’s what he says when he seeks his attention, and he wonders whether he’ll ever fully pronounce his name. It doesn’t really matter. He’ll gladly be _Shhh_ for the rest of his life, for him, if it’s the last thing he hears. It’s sweet. Keith’s _trying_ , despite his vocal cords being wired differently, and the sounds he does make are absolutely divine, gruff and hushed and fierce, punctuated by the expressive glow of his eyes.

 

He _loves_ his eyes, shelters of an entire universe, and Shiro finally feels like home. Physically, he _isn’t_ . His ship is unsalvageable, and it’ll take a while before he can build another one, half of his crew lost at the bottom of the sea. The island he inhabits is secluded, nearly vacant; there’s a small village near the shore, seemingly kind people who unfortunately can’t understand him, but they let him borrow whatever he needs for a new vessel, and it’s all he can ask for. He doesn’t know where he’ll go after this. _If_ he goes. He can’t imagine a life without Keith, now that his heart beats full, and he asks, one day, where _he’d_ go, if Shiro were to sail again.

 

 _Anywhere you want me_ , Keith signs with absolute certainty, and Shiro gives in to the bashful smile pulling at his mouth, a hard thud against his ribs.

 

~~~

 

Keith comes to him every day, oftentimes with a seal by his side. Kosmo, he calls him, and he’s a very good boy. Shiro remembers him from a year ago, when Keith guarded him like a dragon would a treasure. It’s the day Shiro’s life irrevocably changed, and he learns about him as time passes, a friend who feels like more. He brings him gifts. _Food_ . Shells and fish and pearls, and the diffident smiles he offers grow bolder over time, like the rest of him. Keith isn’t _shy_ . Not really. He’s prudent, if nothing else, and watching his trust for Shiro evolve with the bond they carefully forge is a sight to behold. _He’s_ a sight to behold, a beauty as wild and raw as the seas’ turbulent waves, with claws and fangs and gills, and a tail made of intricate patterns of coal and garnet tones. Shiro’s always been attracted to men, but until Keith came along, he realizes now that he never really knew what attraction really was. It’s physical, but more than that, it’s mercilessly _feral_ , instinctive in a way he can’t explain, body and soul harmoniously in sync.

 

And his heart’s never hurt so good.

 

~~~

 

Keith reveals himself in measured doses. He’s not used to sharing, and Shiro doesn’t pry. He takes whatever Keith is willing to give without ever asking for more, a patience that doesn’t waver—no matter how much he longs for him.

 

His mother was human, killed by her own kin— _Shiro’s_ —as she and his father protected him from scale hunters. There’s a hint of animosity in his eyes when he reminisces, and Shiro doesn’t try to justify anything. Not _all_ humans are foul, but it’s a moot point; only a few took his family away, and it’s all that matters. He doesn’t try to reassure him— _I’m not like them_. He apologizes instead, fingertips tracing the contour of the scar slashing his cheek, and Keith touches his hand, eyes closed as they linger together in silence, pulses beating in unison.

 

Like her, he could walk the land if he so wished, albeit temporarily. He tells him one night, lying by his side on the shore as shooting stars crowd the sky. It’s too much to ask for, literally; the ocean could forsake him in turn, _forever_ , and he’d promptly waste away. Shiro isn’t sure he’s worth the risk. Keith thinks otherwise, and the vehemence in his gaze burns a hole through his chest.

 

“Keith,” Shiro tries to dissuade him, and he thinks he knows why he wants to try.

 

 _Intimacy_ . He’s caught Keith multiple times seemingly trying to reach for him, not knowing how. It’s been _months_ , and Shiro’s yet to hold him in his arms. They’ve touched plenty. A gentle grip around firm shoulders, accidental brushes of hands and fleeting caresses across each other’s faces, each other’s arms. They’ve often stared _too long_ , coy glances oscillating towards parted lips, and Shiro’s reined himself in every time. He’s scared. Keith’s parents managed well enough; so could _they_ , but he thinks of the beach and the blood and the way he’s always alert whenever Keith is with him, as if in perpetual danger. _He doesn’t want to lose him_ , and Keith hisses his confusion, a creature of tempered fury Shiro is hopelessly in love with.

 

He doesn’t mention it again. Instead they trade more stories, songs and hopes and dreams, as close as they can possibly be under the stars. Whenever Shiro starts signing, Keith clicks his tongue, one finger against Shiro’s lips as he gently _taps. Let me hear you_. The duality of his fierce and gentle nature is fascinating, and Shiro obliges, giving him everything, a low chuckle as Keith’s focus sharpens on him. He smiles content, and Shiro loses and finds himself in his eyes, a lump in his throat.

 

He could die a happy man.

  
  


— K —

  
  
  


The ship is taking shape, and Shiro grows oddly distant. It’s barely anything, at first. A missed rendezvous, a shortened escapade in shallow waters. His gaze slides off him too easily, and oftentimes he catches him _wincing_ , as if pained somewhere, but he won’t talk to him. A week passes. _Two_ , and Keith circles the island with a sense of unbridled fear bubbling in his belly, nausea-filled. His soul wails for him; he can almost feel Shiro’s howling the same tune, and still he won’t show up, forcing Keith to go where he shouldn’t.

 

The building site is dangerous territory. Humans are unpredictable, but as Shiro once told him, wherever they are, he won’t ever give up on him. Something’s amiss. It’s the kind of certainty that churns low in the stomach, cold on the way up before it swells in your throat. The sand grazes his red-tinged scales as he crawls his way to the ship. Shiro’s on the deck, looking over the horizon with one hand coiled tight around the wheel, the profile of his broad silhouette a sight that never fails to knock the air out of his lungs. _He’s so beautiful_. White-haired since he found him again, with the most gentle eyes he’s ever seen. They understand each other on such a visceral level a glance often suffices, when words or signs fail them, but a glance won’t do, this time.

 

Keith climbs up the wooden hull, half-immersed. Shiro doesn’t hear him, lost in thoughts, and Keith _huffs_ , clinging to the railing.

 

“ _Shhh_.”

 

It’s immediate; Shiro pivots, and Keith’s heart _sinks_.

 

He’s missing an arm. Bandages cover the stump of a severed bicep, and Keith’s nostrils _flare_ , eyes aghast as his breath comes short, raspy noises in his throat.

 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, almost apologetic as he closes the distance between them, his only hand cupping his cheek.

 

“ _Shhh!_ ” It’s a half-growl that barely conveys his dismay, but Shiro understands.

 

He _smiles_ at him, his gaze so warm, so soft, and it feels like goodbye.

 

“I wish I’d had more time,” he speaks slowly, and Keith reads his lips with budding pressure behind his eyes. “I’m sick, Keith. The doctor here says it’s only a matter of time before the disease spreads, and I…”

 

His voice trails off, a sigh that Keith feels on his skin as he reaches up to trail the back of his knuckles across Shiro’s cheek, searching his gaze. _More time_ . He can’t lose him. He’s already lost _enough_ , and he stubbornly shakes his head, a chagrined frown creasing his face.

 

“Keith,” Shiro leans into his touch, eyes closed as he presses his lips to his fingers, and Keith’s heart thumps in his throat. “I’m so glad I’ve met you. You gave me more in a few months than I’ve ever had in my entire life, and I can’t… _be_ the man I wanted to be. For you.”

 

“... _Shhh_.”

 

“You have to let me go,” Shiro opens his eyes, red-brimmed, and Keith nearly loses his balance. “Your life isn’t over, and you deserve so much more than… this. _Please_. Don’t waste it here with me. I’ve… nothing left to offer now.”

 

He can’t breathe. Shiro’s chin dips downward and Keith recoils with the force of his insinuation, vision blurred. He rubs his face with the back of his hand; it’s _wet_ , and he chokes on a soundless sob, Shiro’s eyes growing wide as he catches the motion.

 

“Keith…”

 

He feels his pain, and he can’t fathom how Shiro imagined just for _one second_ that Keith would willingly leave him behind. That he wouldn’t do everything in his power to make _this_ last. There’s a whole world out there for him to discover; it’s what Shiro seems to _think_ , but the world’s never wanted _him_ , and Keith already knows where he belongs. If Shiro is meant to perish before him, he won’t breathe his last alone.

 

He jumps off the railing, Shiro’s voice booming behind him as he disappears below the surface. Kosmo already knows, his muzzle soft against his cheek. _We’ll see each other again, boy_ , and he follows him as far as Keith allows, a gritty bank of pebbles in a small grotto.

 

And searing pain tears his flesh apart.

  
  


— S —

  
  
  
  


_Stupid_ . It was a stupid, stupid decision to keep Keith in the dark, only to urge him to _go_ , and now that he’s gone, Shiro doesn’t know whether he’ll ever forgive himself. He should have known better. Keith’s never shown anything less than sheer loyalty, his affection for him clear in his smiles, in his touches, in the way he glances fierce and coy and playful, sharing with him everything he has and everything he _is_. Had the roles been reversed, Shiro never would have wanted to leave his side, and he hates himself a little for pushing Keith away, now that he needs him the most.

 

He doesn’t want to die. He’s too young, for one, but he’s always sort of known that he wouldn’t last long in this world. Call it a premonition; he lived his life in earnest, and it’s the greatest tragedy of his short existence, that he’d find his better half with one foot in the grave. Two of his crew members have already died from the same ailment, and Shiro’s good health is probably the only thing that’s keeping death at bay. _For now_. He’s already lost an arm, and he doesn’t know what’s to come as a dull ache settles into a continuity threatening to crack his bones.

 

It’s nothing compared to the cruel twinge in his chest, a grip too tight around his heart.

 

“You’re an idiot, Shirogane,” he mutters to himself as he leaps out of bed and subsequently _winces_.

 

The pain isn’t enough to stop him; didn’t his father always tell him to follow his dreams?

 

He doesn’t go very far. The wooden floor of his modest living room creaks under a weight that isn’t his, and as the door swings wild with the winds of the storm outside, he sees him. _Keith_ . Standing tall and drenched a few feet away from him, cracks of lightning illuminating the crisp and firm lines of his body. _Human_. With impossibly long and strong legs, a puddle of rain at his feet.

 

His breath catches in the back of his throat. There’s _something_ in Keith’s gaze, almost savage, but the edges are so achingly _tender_ Shiro chokes on a dry swallow. _What have you done_ , he signs in slow motions, hesitant, and Keith, _his beautiful, brave, fiery Keith_ , answers with the only thing that makes sense.

 

 _I’ll go anywhere you want me_.

 

And he wants him everywhere.

 

Keith closes the distance between them in cautious strides, his legs unfamiliar appendages. Shiro reaches for him instantly, hand poised on a perfect hip, neck bent down for an eyeful of purple.

 

“Keith,” he all but whispers, eyes fluttering shut as Keith cranes his neck to nuzzle his jaw, his cheeks, palms flat against his naked chest.

 

It’s excruciatingly blissful and Shiro says his name again and again, and the air he breathes becomes his. His lips hang parted over his; noses and foreheads brush. _Shhh_ , he faintly hears, and it’s too much and it’s not enough, and mouths collide and hands grapple and bodies _arch_ , and Shiro’s heart burns with his.

 

They hold each other for an eternity, thunder rumbling loud in the distance, calling out to them. Keith kisses him with complete abandon, his tongue languid around his, his fingers twisted sharp in his hair. He makes the most beautiful sounds Shiro’s ever heard, the noises akin to moans but harsher, a hitch in his breath every time Shiro touches him somewhere new. He tastes of rainwater and seasalt, and he’s _warm_ , soft and rough, a unique contrast Shiro keeps close to his body, pressed tight against one another.

 

They tumble into bed, and Shiro forgets where he ends and where Keith begins. They move together in languorous motions, and Keith finds his way into his lap, rolling and rubbing lazy where they’ve both grown hard. His flesh is smooth and hot against his, his lips supple and wet, a litany of sighs between them. _I love you_ , Shiro breathes around his tongue, and there’s a foreign note in Keith’s throat, sweeter than any other he’s ever produced. He blindly searches for his hand, guides it where his heart beats strong, the same chaotic rhythm in Shiro’s chest. _I love you too_. He doesn’t say it; he doesn’t have to. It’s all Shiro feels as they writhe together, and they cup each other’s faces and they cling to each other, waves after waves of unbridled pleasure crashing over them.

 

Shiro catches his breath through knowing smiles and low chuckles, Keith a panting mess as he snuggles up close, legs intertwined. His bare body is bathed in moonlight, and their eyes lock, fond and replete as fingertips flutter across jaws and cheeks, lost in the contemplation of each other. He’s so grateful for him. For the months of sheer happiness he gave him, for _this_ , a sacrifice that could very well cost him his own life. He wishes he could stay longer. He _can’t_ , and he apologizes for hiding, for wasting the kind of time they don’t have anymore, and Keith forgives him with tears down his face, a promise of forever.

 

Wherever they go, and wherever they are, they’ll always carry a piece of each other.

  
  


— K —

  
  
  
  


They travel together aboard Shiro’s ship, and Kosmo follows close behind, swimming along. Time is counted. They love each other as often as Shiro’s body allows, forging memories that’ll never be forgotten. Under the stars, rocked by the gentle sway of the sea, everything seems possible, though Keith knows he won’t escape death forever. Shiro’s a good man. Too young to leave without a trace, with a plethora of dreams interrupted. _You’re my dream_ , he often tells him, and Keith understands, but his life was never limited to _him_ . There’s so much more he could do. So much more he could _help_ , a myriad of souls who could benefit from a man like him. It doesn’t seem fair, that those who care the most always vanish first.

 

There’s a choice to make here. As Shiro’s gaze grows haggard, his skin paler and  his body _weaker_ , Keith’s resolve is as sure as the pull of the moon, which wanes _twice_ before Shiro reaches a point of no return. Before he smiles one last time and touches his cheek like he so often does, still warm, his love for him a violent storm in the depth of his eyes grown dark.

 

Keith carries him against high wind and pelting rain, his supernatural strength effortlessly holding his muscular mass. His pulse is feeble, his breathing slow. He jumps off the bridge, Shiro inert in his arms, his hair whiter in the lustrous glow of the full moon above. He hopes he remembers him, when he fades into foam, when he becomes one with the sea and Shiro swims his warm currents, but he knows he’s bound to him in ways that transcend mortality, and they’ll inescapably meet again.

 

But the ocean doesn’t heed his call. Shiro’s legs remain as they are, and Keith struggles to keep them both afloat, Shiro’s chest heaving hushed.

 

_Take my life. Let him live!_

 

Silence is his only answer, and he looks frantic around him, Kosmo swimming close to help support them both. _It can’t end like this_. He gives Shiro a little shake, a pained sound stuck between his heart and his throat as he blinks too fast and watches his glow drain from his face.

 

“ _Shhh_!”

 

 _Please, no_ . Not him, not _now_ , not when Keith’s had his mind set on another way, a _better_ way, a life for a life. _You can’t let him die!_ But she _can_ , her whims erratic and capricious, and his pulse rises _up_ , vision obscured.

 

“ _Shhhi…_ ”

 

His cheek pressed to his, Keith gathers him closer against his body, gasping for air as sea water fills his mouth, shoulders shaken by the spasm of his quiet sobs. _Please. Come back_. It’s a futile plea; it was inevitable from the moment Shiro’s health failed him, but he’s not done fighting.

 

 _I won’t give up on you_.

 

“ _Shhhi...rr_ ,” he tries again, a name he wants the ocean to know, to hear, to _love_ , but she rejects them both and a surge of anger shoots through him, _desperate_ , his entire strength focused on a single wish.

 

_LET HIM LIVE!_

 

“ _SHIRO!_ ”

 

His voice slices through the air, a cry louder than the storm above, and he clings to him as the ocean swells and tosses and engulfs them both, only darkness and a dwindling flame inside him.

 

And he breathes no more.

  
  


— S —

  
  
  
  


It’s the most peculiar sensation he’s ever felt. Keith is a halo of ethereal beauty in his mind, carved in his memory like the shape of his heart. He hears his voice and he _doesn’t_ , slow awareness creeping through his senses. Is this it? _Death_ , where nothing feels like anything. Something’s cradling him in a soothing embrace as he floats in nothingness. It’s warm. _Cold_. It’s too much all at once, and his name reverberates through his soul like a vow that rises beyond time and space, and his eyes open on…

 

...purple.

 

It’s the first thing he sees, and his hand flies to his face as he realizes he’s not _breathing_ , movements strained by a strange sort of density. _Water_ . He’s submerged, and bubbles flow past his lips as he _gasps_ , and the fact that he’s not drowning is completely absurd to him. He’s dead. He _must_ be, and when he glances around him with a seed of fear in his chest that doesn’t fully take root, he oddly feels… right where he should be.

 

Purple shifts into blue. Pink. Red. Less. _More_. Colors shouldn’t be this vivid underwater, and a face he knows all too well comes into view, long sinews of a tail kicking.

 

 _Keith_.

 

A strong torso bumps into him, toned arms closed tight around his neck, and a mass of black flowy hair teases his jaw. It’s when he feels _it_. Keith’s tail, scales against scales, and he peeks over his shoulder, down the long line of Keith’s spine, where he catches a glimpse of his own. Black, grey... and purple.

 

 _How_. But he doesn’t ask. It’s a story meant for another time, after he’s held him long enough, tails intertwined. He laughs as water fills and surrounds him, and sheltered in the warmth of Keith’s arms, he’s never felt more alive.

 

 _You saved me_ , he signs a moment later, echo of a far-off memory.

 

 _We saved each other_ , Keith smiles candid, and Shiro feels its curve in his stomach, a fluttery sensation. His lips move, pursed on a word he doesn’t vocally utter. _Home_ , he mouths, and as their foreheads connect, Shiro knows exactly what he means, a whole new world to discover.

 

Together.

**Author's Note:**

> if you'd like to flail about sheith with me, poke me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/elfrooted) or [tumblr](https://elfrooted.tumblr.com/)!


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